Riders on the Storm
by C.M. Kelly
Summary: Part 4: The siblings finally catch up to Molly, but are distracted when Fiona discovers a string of deaths involving young people with psychic abilities. In the meantime, Jack reflects on the night he was changed from skeptic to hunter.
1. Chapter 1

_Fire!_

Jack awoke to the distant shout of a man's booming voice. He opened his eyes wide in the dark as if doing so would open his eardrums along with them.

_Fire!_

The sound was clearly not a figment of his imagination. His pupils adjusted to the dark room. It took Jack a few seconds to recall where he was.

Home.

_That's right_, he slowly began to remember. He was home, in his bedroom.

The door was wedged open a crack and he could see a bluish glow bouncing off the hallway walls. He arose and curiously made his way toward the door, still listening intently.

_Fire, men! Nice and steady!_

As he entered the hallway, it was apparent that the noise was coming from the television downstairs. The dialogue became clearer as he came to the foot of the staircase. He observed his mother dozing peacefully on the couch, the television across from her illuminating the heavyset bags under her eyes.

The program on the television appeared to be an old war documentary. Jack gently picked up the fleece blanket hanging on the back of the couch and draped it over his mother.

He grasped the empty wine bottle on the coffee table and frowned disapprovingly. He could have sworn he'd hid all the bottles. She must have picked this one up on the way home.

He approached the television, bringing his face close to it as he sought out the unlit power button with the pads of his fingers.

_Fire! Again! Fi- Fire consumed the entire home in less than an hour._

He retracted his hand in confusion. The channel had changed though Jack was sure he hadn't yet hit any buttons. Jack's arm dropped back to his side. He took a moment to absorb the new voice, stepping away from the screen. It was a local news program showing clips of fire engulfing a house.

_Thankfully, all occupants managed to escape – Fire-breathing dragon! Stir the knights! _

Again, the channel had changed.

The dialog shook loose something long dulled in the back of his mind. He suddenly remembered the heat on his face. He could hear his mother screaming, faint but undeniably her voice. He needed to look back at her resting on the couch to be sure it was all in his head.

Then the channel changed yet another time, and he couldn't help but transfix his eyes on the screen, aware of the pattern unfolding before him.


	2. Chapter 2

_You can be- I'll fire every last one of you! Fire me? _

_ Firemen-_

The channels hopped around like a mocking strobe light before Jack's face, out of numerical order.

_ Fire-_

_ Fire-_

_ Fire-_

_ Fire!_

His lips parted and eyes focused as he slowly backed further away from the set. He took another step, catching himself as his calf hit hard against the coffee table, and the screen simultaneously went black.

The commotion finally disturbed his mother, who grumbled something and pulled the blanket over her head. Jack stood frozen, still shaken by the television. He half-expected it to turn itself back on, as he'd seen in horror movies one too many times.

"Jack?"

His mother's voice. He almost felt the urge to shush her, but instead took a seat on the nearby armchair to regain his bearings.

Molly sat up and reached for the lamp, taking an extended amount of time to locate its switch. The eerie atmosphere of the room dissipated with the light.

"C'mon, Mom, let's get you to bed."

"No, no. I'm fine here," she said, tucking her feet under her.

"Okay," Jack laughed. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Hey, did your sister get home yet? I fell asleep here waiting for her."

"Mom," Jack answered carefully, "Fi's not here, remember? She's in California, at school."

"Oh. Oh, that's right. Will you get her on the phone for me?"

"It's late. Whatever you need to tell her can wait until morning-"

"No, Jack," she said sternly. "I need to speak with you and Fiona right away. I've been meaning to tell you something that - it can't wait any longer."

"Okay, so tell me. I'll call her tomorrow and give her the message," Jack teased.

"She's supposed to be _here_," Molly shouted, her eyes clouding. "I agreed to letting her leave for the rest of the school year. Not the rest of high school, not the rest of college. No way, Jack. No. I want my babies home with me, _right_ now."

She shot up from the couch, catching her foot in the blanket and fumbling forward. Jack moved fast to gently help her to the ground. They stayed sitting with their backs against the couch as Molly fell apart on his shoulder.

"Oh, Mom. Are you okay?"

"No! 'I miss him too, we always will. But we're still gonna laugh sometimes.' You know who said that? Fi, when she was just a little baby. I need my baby!"

"Don't start this now," Jack whispered, stroking her hair. "Get some rest."

"But I can't protect her if she's all the way in California! Hell, I can't protect you and you're right here."

"Sh, she's fine. I'm fine-"

"Just like I couldn't protect your father. I couldn't do anything."

Jack's brow furrowed at his mother's latest comment.

"There was nothing you could do, Mom. You couldn't have known-"

"That's what I need to tell you!" she cried, sliding away from him.

"What?" Jack mumbled.

"Everything," her voice wavered, "everything, was my fault. You've got to remember by now? Don't you? You've got to remember, th-the fire. Don't you remember it, Jack?"

"That's real?" he whispered, suddenly wishing he hadn't gotten out of bed.

"I _see_ things. _Bad_ things. I knew it was going to happen, I just didn't believe it was real, like you, Jack, you never believe anything is real, but it _is. _And it will get you whether you believe in it or not, so, time to wise up. I've seen things from your worst nightmares. It's all real. Everything Fiona's been writing about on her computer, it's all real, real as you and me."

"If this is the wine talking-"

"How dare you. I'm trying to tell you the truth! A little liquid courage never hurt anyone. This is the truth, and you need to know it all. Now. Right, _now_!"

Jack paused, stunned into silence.

"I hunt _monsters_. There! There it is. The tour's a sham. My life's a sham. When I'm home too long, I get scared something evil will find us so I pack us up and drive us around the country. I can't help myself! Ever since I saw your father, burning…"

"Dad died in a car accident," Jack said calmly, not wanting to believe a word his mother was saying, yet knowing it was, just as she kept stating, the truth.

"No, no," she shook her head. "Just because you leave your body doesn't make you dead."

"Yes it does," he lied, immediately thinking of Claire, the girl who could leave her body as she pleased. Astral projection.

"Yes," Molly said aloud.

For a beat he thought she read his mind, until he realized he'd said the words aloud.

"It took him from his body, and he escaped here. But it found him. That was his soul up there, burning, screaming! It- it-"

"I don't want to know this!" Jack protested.

"You need to!" Molly shouted, grabbing his face with her hands. "You need to know what did it! You need to know what's after us! – what's been after us your whole life!"

"No, Mom. Please. You're- you're scaring me."

Her following words tore him open and wrung his throat, mangled his windpipe and severed his view of the universe as he knew it.

"_It's a_ _demon_."

* * *

"Jack! Wake up, you girl!"

He woke up with a deep inhalation of breath that shocked Fiona so badly that the car swerved sharply to the right.

"Sorry!" she quickly let out, regaining control of the wheel. "You sounded like you were crying in your sleep."

"I was dreaming of Mom."

"What was it about?"

"Nothing. I don't remember."

"Okay then," she said, changing the subject. "Well, I've been dreaming of Mom too. And of the Colt, and of the three of us coming together to blast away that fucking demon."

"Easy, tiger," Jack replied, taking a swig of his flask. "Channel that anger into the gas pedal and get moving, will ya?"

"Get moving? I've been going 90 for about 15 miles now. How much faster can I go in this thing?"

"90? 90! Pull over. I'm driving. Poor baby," he groaned, petting the dashboard of the Mustang.

Fi pulled to the side of the road so the siblings could get out and switch seats.

"Less than half a tank? Really, Fi?" Jack complained once he was behind the wheel.

"I should have let you keep sleeping."


	3. Chapter 3

The Mustang burned through another full tank before the siblings saw a sign for Pagosa Springs.

"We've got the gun. We just need to rake through this place until we find her."

"Just that one simple task," Jack quipped. "Oh, and you forgot the task of finding and killing a demon. With a gun that is only _rumored_ to kill it."

"I didn't say it'd be easy. You're the one who always says nothing should be easy."

"That's right. Because the second your life is easy, it means the universe has given up on you. You're only challenged with what you can handle."

"It's a sign of respect," the two said in unison, one's tone more mocking than the other.

"Yes, that's the truth," Jack added as he parked the Mustang.

"What is this?" Fi asked, indicating the building before them.

"A hotel. Like always," he answered, getting out of the car.

"How do you _always_ manage to find a hotel that is in walking distance of a bar?"

Jack circled around the car's hood and leaned in through Fi's window.

"As long as hotels keep charging me out the ass for those tiny nips of liquor, we will stay next to, and/or across the street from, a bar."

He smirked and patted the passenger door.

"I miss the days when you were too scared to try a wine cooler!" Fi yelled after him.

* * *

By the time Jack returned, the sun had already begun to set.

"What the hell took you so long? You were gone for twenty minutes – I almost went in after you with a pistol full of rock-salt."

"The desk clerk was hot," he grinned.

"You are pathetic. Pathetic," Fi joked, reaching for her bag. "How far are we from Pagosa Springs, again?"

"Fifteen minutes by car."

"How about by boat? By helicopter? Horse and carriage?"

"You're funny, Fi. You're really on a roll today, I'll tell you-"

"Sh."

Fi stopped dead in her tracks.

_It's cold outside, and the fire's burned out. You're going for a ride._

Jack heard it too.

"Jack! It's her!" Fi yelled, throwing her bag back into the car and doubling her pace.

"No it, it can't be," Jack objected, falling into step with his sister.

From across the street, the bar door swung open and the familiar music playing inside could be heard clearly.

"Don't go…" a haunting melody sung out from inside.

Fi dug her fingers into her brother's arm and tugged him toward the sound.

"It could be a trap," Jack thought aloud without slowing down.

"At this point, I don't care."

"Me either."

Fi's heel hardly hit the curb when she was frozen by the sudden blare of sirens. She instinctively meshed herself into the cigarette-smoking crowd of patrons outside, watching on in horror as a police car came within inches of striking her brother.

It came to a screeching halt and in seconds, a gun was drawn and pointed at Jack's chest. Fi wanted to scream, attack, do _something_, but instead squeezed her fists tight and held her breath. Now was not the time to call attention to herself.

"Keep those hands up son," the police officer commanded, then mumbled something into the radio clipped to his shirt.

Jack's skin glowed red to blue, caught in the lights of the police car.

"Is this him?" the officer shouted over his shoulder. Jack turned just enough to catch a glimpse of the intended recipient of his question. The pretty desk clerk stepped out from the hotel doorway, nodded and quickly retreated back inside.

"Son of a bitch," Jack grumbled.

"That card you used in there was flagged for some _serious_ identity theft. Sloppy move on your part."

"This is ridiculous. There must be some kind of mistake."

The policeman forcefully pulled Jack's arms together and tightened his restraints.

"If only my mother were here to see this," Jack said loud enough for Fi to hear.

Fi got the hint and darted into the bar. She knew Jack could handle himself, and even if he couldn't, there was nothing she could do to help him until he got to the police station.

She was hit with a voice echoing through the sound system as soon as she opened the door, "Ha, sorry guys. There seems to be some excitement outside."

"Mom," Fi whispered, her eyes wide in disbelief.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hopefully that won't be too much of a distraction," Molly joked, taking a long pause to observe the scene. When she recognized the figure being pushed into the squad car, the sudden shock on her face spoke volumes. Her pupils were almost avian in the way they scanned the crowd.

The bright stage lights made it difficult to distinguish faces in the audience, but she strained herself to focus on a long-haired girl standing near the entrance.

_No, it couldn't be… Too tall, too old_, her mind raced.

But Molly couldn't stop staring. Her hands began to shake as the girl made a beeline for the stage.

"Excuse me," Molly said into the microphone, then hastily disappeared down the stairway behind the stage.

"Mom!" Fi called out, running to follow her.

A bouncer stepped in and pressed an arm around her torso.

"I'm sorry. She asked that no one be allowed backstage."

"But I'm her daughter. She didn't know I was coming, I- I'm surprising her."

The bouncer looked down at her with a tinge of sympathy. He analyzed her for a moment before determining she was telling the truth.

"Can I see your ID?"

"Yes," Fi replied excitedly, unzipping her purse and fumbling for her real license. She finally found it hidden behind the lining of her wallet and proudly handed it over.

She smiled as the bouncer compared the photo to her face, already thinking of what she would say to Molly. It was fairly obvious that she was running from her, but that wasn't going to slow Fi down now.

The bouncer returned her smile and moved aside with a nod.

Fi took the set of stairs in two strides. She quickened her pace when she heard a car start up from outside.

"Mom!" she yelled, coming around the doorway to the dressing room.

Empty, just as she feared. She kicked open the exit door, saw tail lights receding into the distance and watched the car make a quick left out of sight. She slammed the door shut with a shove.

"No!" she cried out in frustration.

Fi sifted through the items left in the abandoned room, tossing everything she found to be useless onto the ground. It appeared that all was left behind was a half-empty water bottle and a crumpled set list.

She took the set list in her hands and skimmed the song titles. Each one brought back a different memory, different feelings. There wasn't a song listed that she didn't recognize. Obviously, Molly had been too busy to compose some new material.

She folded the piece of paper, noticing some additional writing on the back.

It read, "I love you," in barely eligible cursive, followed by a happy face.

_That's it?_ Fi fumed. _This is the kind of thing found next to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, not the note you leave your daughter after spending months in hiding!  
_

There was something else printed along the top of the paper – a piece of its letterhead. The rest had been torn off. Probably crumpled, swallowed whole.

"D-I-S," Fi read aloud. "Fitting."


	5. Chapter 5

This jail cell was a bit roomier than the last, Jack noted as he ran a fingernail across his teeth. He leaned over and gave a nod to the young guy staring him down from a nearby desk.

In an instant, the kid's eyes were dancing around, making a clear effort to focus on anything but the prisoner he shared the room with. Jack pegged him for an intern. Even a rookie on his first day could handle an alleged identity thief.

"Hey, how's it going?" Jack offered.

"I'm not supposed to talk to the criminals," he shot back.

"Fair enough," Jack replied sarcastically. He decided to try napping instead. "Criminal, huh? Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

To his own surprise, Jack drifted off to sleep much easier than usual. Maybe it was the safety of being behind bars or the rare moment of solitude, but he could finally allow himself to rest. His mind, however, had other plans.

"It's a demon," his mother's voice suddenly echoed.

On the cusp of sleep and awake, Jack searched to find her face in the shadows.

"I know this dream," he murmured.

"And I need to teach you how to kill it," she continued as if he'd never spoken.

Because he hadn't. On the night his mother actually said those words, he couldn't even breathe.

_Demons are real_. He'd always known, but hearing his typically rational, logical mother confirm his beliefs was enough to drive him over the edge. And in most ways, it did.

It was as if Jack's true self was waiting dormant inside him until that very moment, and there was no going back. For Fi. All for Fi. If she was going to pretend monsters weren't real, he would need to work twice as hard to protect her.

"I should have been honest with you both years ago. I should have trained you, really trained you," his mother would say apologetically, and was saying now, here, in this reoccurring memory.

"You let us be normal. You did the best thing for us."

"_The best thing for us?_" he heard Fi scoff from another corner of his mind.

"Not now, Fi. I can't take anymore fighting," he groaned, too deep into sleep to distinguish the dream from reality.

"Whatever you say, Phil Jackson," her voice retorted.

"What'd you call me? Who's Phil Jackson?"

"The worst damn fake name I've ever heard," she laughed.

* * *

"Phil Jackson?"

Jack woke up with his face pressed against one of the dirty cement bricks which lined the beige walls of the jail cell. Disgusted, he sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Damn, man. I thought you were dead."

Jack adjusted his eyes. The intern was speaking to him through the bars.

"I thought you didn't talk to criminals?"

"You're no criminal," he said, twisting a key in the lock. He slid the bars to the side.

"Uh, are you allowed to do that?" Jack backed away, scanning the cell for a makeshift weapon.

"The police captain will be right over. He wanted to say he's sorry."

"You know, I was just getting used to this cell. It's kind of cozy," he went on, unable to find a single object he could use in self defense. He balled his fists at his side.

"Really, come out of there," the intern persisted. "Please?"

Finding the young man's actions untrustworthy, Jack didn't budge.

"Thank you, Tim," the captain finally broke in.

He hardly looked like a cop: short, overweight, adorning no stereotypically outdated facial hair. He looked more fit to be a plumber than a police captain. When the man extended his hand to Jack, he was overwhelmed with the smell of Irish coffee. Of course, a cop would have to be drunk to let him off so easily.

"Sir, I wanted to apologize to you personally for our error. As you might imagine, this is quite an embarrassing situation for us. Why didn't you tell us you're the one who _reported_ the identity theft?" he chuckled. "Next time you report a card stolen, don't use it, okay?"

Jack played along, thoroughly confused, "You boys in blue are just so damn intimidating. It was in an old pair of jeans the whole time. Forgot to call the bank to let them know I found it."

"Happens to the best of us, I guess. Well, son, let's not waste any more of your time or ours. I'll walk you out. Front desk has your keys. Hope you didn't miss your gig."

Jack turned toward him, perplexed, "Gig?"

"Your prints. There's nothing left," the captain explained, passing Jack his keychain. "Classic sign of a seasoned guitarist. I play a bit myself."

"Ha, you caught me. I've been playing guitar my whole life," he revealed, noticing it may have been the first honest thing he'd said all day. He gladly accepted his keys and made a quick exit, adding, "Thanks again for your help."

"Thank Irene from Nevada National Bank," the man called in response. "She straightened this out so fast, you'd think she had the paperwork ready before we even called."

"Hm," Jack nodded as he exited the building. "That's convenient."


	6. Chapter 6

It took Fi less than ten minutes to find the hotel listing in the phone book. The DIS-respectful, DIS-regarded, piece of paper lead her to the Discount Stays Inn. Her mother was never one for chain hotels, but perhaps it was all part of her method to deter her.

Crouched down on one knee, Fi removed a bobby pin from her pocket and began working on the simple lock of the hotel room door. She flattened her palm and gave a nudge once she heard the click of the lock release, nearly toppling over into the room when someone from inside wedged the door open.

She was greeted by a pair of motorcycle boots, attached to what appeared to be a very tall man. Definitely the wrong room. She looked up with wide eyes, hoping this stranger would buy into her guise that she was just some airhead who couldn't read room numbers.

"Oops, this isn't 3H-" she began in a high pitch.

"Fi?" a male voice interrupted her.

"_Carey_?"

Her old friend smiled wide as if her visit to him was intentional.

"Fi! What a surprise. Come in, come in!" he greeted.

Fi hesitated, experiencing a sense of déjà vu.

As Carey leaned in to pull her into a hug, Fi snatched the flask from her hip and tossed its contents in his face.

"Hey! What the hell?"

She carefully observed his reaction until she was satisfied that he was really himself before stepping past him. If she was a day younger she may have blushed.

"Sorry, just a precaution," she explained dryly.

Carey wiped the holy water from his face with his fingers, brushing the wet strands of hair out of his eyes.

"Well, it's good to know you haven't changed a bit," he joked.

"Right," Fi replied sarcastically, eyeballing the hotel room. "Nothing new here."

"First off, I want my hug, and secondly, what the _hell _is that supposed to mean?"

Fi squinted an eye at him.

"What are you doing in Mom's hotel room, Carey?"

"No, no, no. _Not_ what you think," he stuttered, suddenly aware that his presence was unexpected.

"Oh, so you both just happened to be passing through Pagosa Springs at the same time?"

"Yes, actually. I ran into her at the bar-"

"Hm, of course you did." Fi circled around, dragging a hand across the dusty TV stand with a grimace before continuing. "Carey, I'm an adult now. I'm not blind to these things even though perhaps in this case, I'd like to be. Like, rake-out-my-eyes blind to it. But to be honest, I've known what's up ever since you started calling her by her first name and stopped using mine."

"What are you talking about?"

"'Hey there, Kiddo!'" she mocked, giving him a tap on the arm. "Oh, and Jack told me about how you were always, without fail, over for breakfast-"

"Whoa there, _Fiona_. Slow. Down," he laughed nervously, putting up his hands in protest. "Okay, I'll admit, we are sharing this room, but I give you my word that I slept on the couch and she took the bed... Wait, back up a second. Did you just say that _Jack_ told you? You're talking to Jack again?"

"Don't try to change the subject."

"We'll come back to it, I promise-"

"Yes, I'm talking to Jack again. He's also the one who told me you were heading straight back to Hope Springs the second they released you from the police station."

"I had, plans," he stammered.

Fi gave an accusing frown.

"You aren't here just to see your mom are you?" Carey continued, recognizing a distinct change in Fi from the girl he'd spoken to mere months before. "Don't tell me you've dropped out of Stanford…"

"Wow, someone really needs to fill you in."

"I've got time. Fi, why aren't you at school? I think we've already fulfilled our dropout quota."

"I've been too busy searching for my mother for the past three months."

"Searching for her?" There was pity in his voice. "She's been right-"

"Guess she didn't want to be found," she cut in, bitterly.

"Well too bad for her then, you've found her. You're in her room, right? It's only a matter of time until she-"

"She's not coming back here ever again. You of all people must know that about her by now."

Carey straightened his posture. That one hit a nerve. Molly wouldn't leave him behind like that... _Would she?_

"You're probably right," he said condescendingly. "She's probably too busy bailing your dipshit brother out of the clink to make it back here."

Fi raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know where he is?"

"Molly called me and told me... maybe an hour ago? She said not to bother helping, that she'd take care of it."

"Did she mention me?" Fi asked, hurt over the fact that Molly would reach out to Carey over her and Jack.

"No. We had no idea you were coming."

"Bullshit. She saw me. She ran from me. That's how I ended up here. I found this," she spat, pushing the torn piece of hotel stationery into Carey's chest.

Carey flipped the paper over, seeing the scribbled note on the back. He quickly crumpled it up and tossed it in the wastebasket.

Fi held her hands up to her temples. She was furious. Looking for a fight, she echoed Carey's statement, "So what were you saying about Jack? You're really going to give him shit for getting arrested? _You_? When'd you get out, Carey? This morning?"

"My situation was different," he quickly jumped in to defend himself.

"And you've got the nerve to call him, what was it? A 'dipshit'?" she scoffed. "You want to talk about dipshit brothers? Let's talk about dipshit brothers."

"Hey, wait a minute. I was kidding. Those were your words – about seven months ago, remember? The Fi I knew, up until ten minutes ago, thought her brother had evolved into some jerk whose only concern was chasing monsters. And for the record," he added, starting to get worked up himself, "you have no reason to hold a grudge against _my_ brother. _You_ hurt _him_, okay? Let's set that straight."

"Oh yeah?" she retaliated. "Who do you think did this to my eye, huh?"

Fi pointed at the bruise above her left cheek. There was still swelling and a cut from her demonic encounter days before.

"No way. Why would he ever – How could..." Carey fumbled over his words, his voice suddenly quiet. "You're telling me Clu did that to you?".

"Well, technically it was a demon, but it used his hands. And it was my _dipshit_ brother who saved him _and_ me. So watch what you say about him, alright?"

"Alright," Carey folded. "God, I'm sorry. And I'm glad you and Jack are talking again, no matter what other baggage that entails. You guys should have never stopped talking in the first place."

Fi exhaled, also conceding.

"I'm sick of arguing," she confessed. "I spend the majority of my time with Jack and we argue constantly. I'm exhausted."

"That happens when you're stuck with the same person all day," he said, taking a seat on the bed. Fi sat beside him for a beat before laying flat on her back, her legs dangling off the edge. Carey joined her, interlacing his fingers on his chest and staring up at the ceiling.

"So you two were fighting?" Fi asked genuinely.

"She complained about me not making my bed," he replied with a sad laugh. "My bed's a couch. All I have to do is fold the blanket up…"

Fi offered a soft giggle in response, though Carey got quiet. The two of them laid there, not speaking for a few minutes. The silence was therapeutic.

"…I should have folded the blanket," he finally said, meekly.


	7. Chapter 7

"You know what she does, right?" Fi asked. "I mean, what she _really_ does?"

Carey nodded, "That's how we ended up here. About a month ago, I came out this way to have a drink with some friends. And I saw her, first thing when I walked in the bar. I had to do a double-take."

"Did she… look different?"

"No, not really. It was how she was acting. She was talking up this guy - some sketchy, too-close-to-her guy."

"You were jealous?" Fi smirked.

"I was_ concerned_," he corrected her, annoyed. "This guy looked like he could be featured on _America's Most Wanted_. So I sat across the bar, out of sight, had a few drinks, acted like nothing was wrong. Until I saw them leaving together. And I kind of, maybe… followed them out."

"Romantic."

"I followed them to the back lot, this fenced-in area behind the bar. As soon as they rounded the corner, Molly turned into, I don't even know how to describe her – She was like an assassin! She was unbelievable. You should have seen her. Punching, kicking. I hesitated to step in, help her out, but honestly, she was putting up more of a fight than I would have.

Then I watched her pull something out of her purse, a flask maybe. She tore the cap off with her teeth, poured the stuff on him, whatever it was, and the guy foamed up like dish soap and _melted_. Melted! Totally, absorbed, right into the gravel. No bones, no blood. Nothing. It was the coolest and most horrifying thing I've ever seen."

"Then what happened?"

"She turned around, saw me standing there in shock. I think I started to applaud but I don't quite remember… And, that was it. From then on, we were a team."

"Ha!" Fi let out accidentally. "Sorry, it's just, _you_? You hunt?"

"Yes, I hunt! Well, I mostly just hold onto the duffle bag and keep out of harm's way," he confessed, "but I _had_ to, to stay here with her. How could I go back to Hope Springs, back behind the bar at Roadie's, knowing what kind of monsters exist?"

"And is that how a nice guy like you ended up behind bars? Hunting with Mom?"

"That's kind of a funny story, actually."

"I'm dying to hear it," she laughed.

"You know that little stunt with the holy water you pulled when you walked in? Well, I did something similar to the opening act at your Mom's gig the other night."

"You didn't!"

"Hey, I'm new to this! I was so sure. His arpeggios were inhuman."

"Arpeggios, as in guitar-playing? But… were his eyes black? Did he smell like sulfur?"

"No. If anything he smelled like Axe body spray. Why, are those demonic traits, or something?"

"Oh wow. You _are_ a rookie."

"Well, anyway, turns out the guy's guitar techniques were only slightly better than his uppercut. We got into it and somehow our fight spilled out from backstage into the bar. The bouncers were on us in seconds. Or at least I thought they were both bouncers."

"Oh, no..."

"Yeah, one was a bouncer. One was an off-duty cop. Guess which one I hit over the head with a beer bottle?"

"Yikes."

"Tell me about it. Full beer, unopened. Not my proudest moment, that's for sure."

"Another good man gone bad," Fi laughed. "Man, I'm sorry I missed that."

Fi flipped over onto her elbows, letting herself enjoy the rare chance to relax. However, her peaceful moment was quickly cut short by a single newspaper clipping tucked beneath the alarm clock on the nightstand. Fi removed the piece of paper and analyzed it, frowning.

"Do you know him?" Carey asked, indicating the pixilated photo at the top of the page.

"Yeah, I do. His name's James. I only met him once but we used to keep in touch through my website."

"Wait, isn't that the kid who broke your arm?"

"He didn't- whatever. He was able to create a tulpa with his mind, completely by himself. Normally it takes whole groups, entire tribes to conjure something up like that."

"Sounds like pretty powerful stuff. I wonder what he was able to do once he got older."

"He's dead," Fi said softly, displaying the article. "The police think he probably OD'ed,"

"Aw man, another one?"

Fi twisted her body toward Carey.

"Carey, what do you mean another one?"


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey there, Fiona. Guess who's a free man once again?"

Jack switched his cell phone to the opposite ear as he paced below a row of street lamps.

"What'd you do, Jack? Tunnel your way out with a spoon?"

"Irene with Nevada National Bank provided quite an alibi."

"Ah, and who would that be?" Fi asked playfully.

"So it wasn't you, huh? Maybe Mom?"

"Or Irene. I mean, _our _Irene," she suggested, glancing over at Carey in the driver's seat.

"My mom? No way," Carey butted in.

"I'm going to assume that isn't Mom's voice?" Jack joked.

"About that… I may have lost Mom. Again. But the good news is I found Carey."

"I didn't even know he was missing."

"I got to him before the Amber Alert went public."

"What are you two up to? Can you come give me a lift?"

"Sorry, we're already on the road, about forty-five minutes out."

"Gee, thanks for leaving me to rot."

"Oh, please."

"So where are you off to? Got a lead on Mom?"

"Not quite. Mom was working a case in town. A few kids around here passed away mysteriously, seems like they may have been showing signs of psychic ability before they died. We found an address in her hotel room. She was set to meet up with a girl in the morning who appears to be next on the hit list. And who knows, if Mom's not there, maybe this girl can use her abilities to tell us where she is."

"A psychic? Really, Fi? The last psychic I encountered-"

"You were very rude to, I recall."

"He was an asshole. He made you cry. And it's not my fault that he chose to reveal his legitimacy _after_ our talk."

"Saying you hope he chokes on his own bullshit doesn't constitute as a talk, Jack."

Carey suppressed a laugh.

"Well, call me when you're on the way back from your little crystal ball adventure. Where are we staying?"

"Discount Stays Inn, room 8H."

"A Discount Stays? That's a first. Hey, did you see any food joints nearby? I'm starving."

"There's a diner down the road. You'll see the sign from the hotel."

"Awesome. Now get off the phone. I don't want you crashing my Mustang."

"Oh, I'm not driving," Fi teased.

"Don't forget, it's my car too," Carey taunted loud enough for Jack to hear. "Nice to finally get some time behind the wheel."

"You can tell him I've put more money into that car than the three of us paid combined."

"Jack says to go as fast as you want, Carey."

"Yeah, yeah, very funny. Go find your psychic."

"See ya, big brother."

"Wait, Fi," he lowered his voice. "Did you hit him with the holy water?"

"Yes, Jack," she sing-songed.

"That'a girl."

* * *

With the jingle of the diner's front door, Jack found himself among the after-hours bar crowd sucking down ice waters and carbs almost as quickly as they'd done beers mere hours before. He took a seat farthest away from the masses, selecting a spot on the corner of the countertop.

His meal was enjoyable, with just enough grease and red meat to satisfy him. Just as he placed his cash down on the counter, he heard, "Jack? Is that you?"

Jack paused. A lot of baggage came with his real name nowadays, hence why he rarely used it. He looked up into the mirrored ceiling tile to analyze the woman who had posed such a question.

_Pretty girl. Nice hair, leather jacket. No visible police badge. Eh, what the hell? _he grinned, deciding it was safe to be honest.

"Yeah," Jack responded, turning to face her. "How- Kayla? Holy shit. The hero-turned-hunter herself. How are you?"

He stood, embracing the woman in a friendly hug. She took a seat next to him at the countertop, smiling from ear to ear.

"I'm surprised you even remember me," she teased. "I haven't heard from you in over a year."

"How could I forget the girl who dove into a _literal_ pool of blood."

A tinge of sadness instantly came over her face at the memory and Jack immediately regretted his words. He remembered the terrifying scene exactly how it was those years ago when they had met:

Blood splatters across the pool chairs from where she'd slicked her wet hair back, the brownish-red stains on her scalp and fingernails, the crowd of cops and stunned onlookers, the gutted body hidden beneath a white sheet.

Her roommate had been brutally attacked, her throat slit by a demon, and discarded in their complex's swimming pool. Kayla, upon finding the body, dove in to save her, but it was far too late.

"And it was all for nothing," she replied, "except to lead me here, of course… So, you working a job too? Where's your mom?"

"Ah, if that isn't the million dollar question," Jack quipped, finishing off his glass of water.

"What do you mean? You two don't hunt together anymore?"

"Ha, well sweetheart, if you really want the answer to that one, we better move over to a booth and get comfy. It's, kind of a long story."

"Sure thing. I've got time. Besides, it's still early, only, what, four in the morning?"

"Oh, that's all? My bedtime's not for another… Who am I kidding, I don't sleep anymore."

Jack laughed and slid into a nearby booth.

"Careful, Jack. An old man like you needs his sleep," Kayla joked.

"Old man, huh? Oh, that's cute. I just turned twenty-five, and if I remember correctly, so did you."

"Whatever you say. Now hurry and tell me what's up with your mother so we can get you home in time for Wheel of Fortune."


	9. Chapter 9

"It all started because Fi left…" Jack confessed. He'd been venting for nearly an hour. His newest companion stayed focused, however, hanging on each word. He could tell his vulnerability was jarring to her. Up until this point she'd only seen him as some tough-as-nails hunter, but he needed to get these thoughts off his chest. He couldn't say them to Fi, not without hurting her.

"It affected all of us, you know," he continued. "I had other things in my life, obviously; school, friends, the Mustang. But I remember there being this _void_, instantly. No matter how old, how independent she got, I couldn't help but see her as my baby sister… some, young, naive kid, living miles away on her own.

"The fact that she never called made it so much worse. I imagined… I don't know… I thought she'd be miserable out there, counting the days until she could return to me and Mom in Colorado. Family always meant so much to her, and we were it. We were all she had. It's always been just the three of us.

"Then I showed up at Stanford and there she was, my kid sister, basically playing wife to this _man_… How could she just settle down with some random guy? Without even introducing him to us first to make sure he'd fit in, to make sure… we'd approve. How could he have been good enough for her? Maybe he was, who knows. I'll never find out now, I guess."

"Maybe he was just like you," Kayla suggested.

"Yeah, right."

"Well, you'd die for your sister, right?"

"In a heartbeat."

"What if he did?"

"You think some average Joe knew to sacrifice himself for my sister? You think he knew how important she was?"

"Maybe not to the whole world, but to his world probably. You did say they were planning on getting married and starting a family of their own."

"It never would've worked out."

"Wow. That's pretty harsh for someone who claims to care so much about his sister, don't you think?"

"I mean, sure, they could've gotten married and had a beautiful family and everything would be sunshine, but then one day, it would happen. Something would come along and tear it apart."

"Like what? You?"

"Me? No. Something supernatural. Something, demonic. It's our destiny. It's unavoidable."

"If you ask me, after hearing all this… I think your biggest weakness, your whole family's weakness… is each other."

"I know it is. We know."

"Maybe that's why Molly's on the run. The demons would have the upper hand if you were all together. They could dangle you and Fiona like bait, corner your mom – They could take you all out in one shot. I'm sure that's how she sees it."

"I get it, Kayla. I do. But we're also stronger when we're together. We could've used her help a hundred times by now. We had a close call in Santa Cruz, Fi almost died, I almost-"

"Wait, Santa Cruz?" she cut in. "When were you in Santa Cruz?"

"Just a few days ago, why-"

"And before that?"

"Before that, I was… back here in Colorado."

"And before that?" she pressed, her eyes wide.

"We made a quick stop in Arizona, before that we'd spent a few weeks Texas. Indiana before that. Why?"

She grabbed her bag in a frenzy, removing a small map of the United States marked with various hand-drawn lines and circles.

"Where else?" she demanded.

"Oh, uh," he let out a frustrated sigh, cupping his forehead. "Everywhere, Kayla. I don't know. We're always on the road."

"Jack. All the places you named," she said, tapping a pen on each location, "I was there, at the same time you were."

"Good for you, stalker," he laughed. "You were probably getting on the same cases we were."

"No, no one sent me to any of those places. I've been following a pattern – Demons popping up all over the map. All different types."

"Okay, us too. So what?"

"I've been talking to other hunters, Jack. Old hunters, ones that have been doing this for a lot longer than you or me. In a normal year, they'd hear of maybe three demonic possessions, maybe four tops."

"Yeah?"

"This year, we've recorded about_ twenty-seven_, so far. You get what I'm saying?"

Jack's chest began to feel heavy.

"More and more demons are walking among us," she continued in a whisper, cautious of their surroundings. "A lot more."

"Do you know why?" he finally asked.

"No. But I know it's something big. Don't you see? This whole time I've been tracking demons…and the demons, they've been tracking you."

Jack was stunned to silence. He wanted to be away from this diner and back in the Mustang with Fi, going ninety miles an hour toward wherever Molly was hiding, waiting for them.

"Jack, a storm's coming. And you, your sister, your mother… you're smack in the middle of it."


	10. Chapter 10

WELCOME TO KANSAS.

The sign was almost indistinguishable from the blinding daylight breaking through the passing trees.

"Want me to drive?" Fi suggested.

Carey, busy humming along to some hair band coming through the car stereo, shook his head "no" before performing a lengthy drum solo on the steering wheel.

"Hey, Fi," he replied once his solo was complete, "How easy do you think it'd be to change your number overnight?"

"Overnight? Um, pretty impossible. You'd have to at least wait until a store opened up to activate the new… Oh, I get it. Cute. Very cute."

"I'm just saying, Molly's out there somewhere. We've got a direct line. Want to give it a shot?" Carey asked, extending his cell phone out to her.

"And say what exactly?" Fi replied with some hesitation. She wanted to grab the phone, dial the number, pray to God she'd hear her mother's voice one more time, but the heartbreaking possibility of getting that automated out-of-service message again kept her arms at her sides.

"Say whatever you need to say. Tell her you love her. Call her a bitch. Whatever you've been dying to get off your chest. You've been waiting months to speak to her, kiddo. Here's your chance."

Fi stared down the cell phone like it would be hot to the touch. A stinging pain. Like a knife in the back.

"No. No, not yet" she decided. "Let's talk to this psychic girl, close the case, then we can worry about my problems."

"_Our_ problems," Carey corrected. "I can't do this on my own, Fi. I'll have to return to Roadie's, manage Mom and Dad's biker bar for the rest of my life, all while discretely adding holy water to the drinks and praying that demons won't find us and kill us."

"If you've got so much to lose, _you_ call her."

"Fine I will," he quickly responded with a boyish grin, and hit send on Molly's number.

"Wait, no-" Fi protested, but it was too late.

"Catch!" he teased, tossing the phone to Fi.

She instinctively caught it, her heartbeat quickening with each subsequent ring.

Then the click of a connection. Her breathing ceased. She hung on to the silence before hearing her mother's voice.

"Hello?"

Fi darted her eyes at Carey. He was still grinning as though to say "I told you so."

"Carey? … Hello?"

"M- Mommy?" Fi finally stuttered, motivated by the fear of losing her mother once again.

"Baby...?" Molly's voice shrunk to a pained whisper. "Baby, is that you?"

Fi's bottom lip began to quiver like a child's.

"Yes, Mom. Yes, it's me."

She could hear her mother start to cry on the other end, even though she was trying to mask it beneath a soft laugh.

"Oh, baby. It's so nice to hear your voice," Molly began. "I know I owe you… all the explanations in the world. But _please_, know I'm doing this for you and your brother. I miss you and love you, both of you, so much."

"So why won't you see us, Mom? Why do you insist on running away?" Fi answered, tears rolling down her right cheek.

"By now I'm sure Jack has told you what I've done, what I'm still doing. I can't put you two in danger. Not yet. Not until I know _exactly_ what we are up against. Do you understand?"

"A demon. The demon who got Dad. We already know what it is, Mom. We want to help."

"Oh, Fiona," Molly sighed, sad for the loss of her child's innocence. Fi's numbness to the threat of demons made her hurt to her core. "This one is so much more powerful than you can imagine. We need special weapons. As soon as I find what I'm looking for-"

"You mean the Colt?" Fi interjected.

"The… Yes," Molly stammered. "How do you know about that?"

"Because we found it. It's with me. We have the gun, Mom."

"You have the Colt?" Molly gasped, putting a hand to her mouth.

"Yes, it's with me right now," Fi said excitedly. "Now let us find you, _please_, and we'll take on this thing together."

"Okay," Molly agreed without taking another minute to think. "Okay, let's meet up."

"Really? You mean it, Mom?" Fi cried, hopeful. "Don't you dare pretend to-"

"I swear. I'm done running. The Colt was the last piece of the puzzle. It's time. We're ready."

Fi almost dropped the phone. She again looked to Carey, who offered another smile and a firm squeeze of her hand.

"We're on our way to the address you had on your nightstand."

"So am I. I can meet you there in three hours."

"Three hours. Okay," Fi beamed.

"I love you, baby. See you soon," Molly added before hanging up.

Fi kept the phone at her ear long after the call disconnected, frozen in disbelief.

"See, kiddo," Carey said. "Everything's going to work out."

"I don't know… whether to be thrilled or terrified."

"It's just your mom. There's nothing to be scared of. So what if you haven't seen her for a while?"

"Not just that. Do you know what this reunion will mean for us, Carey?"

Carey shrugged his shoulders and offered up a guess, "You'll be a family again?"

"This is the start of a suicide mission. Once we're all together again, it's go time. The demon or us. And even if we succeed in killing it, the chances of us making it out of this fight alive… let's just say they aren't very good."

Carey eased up on the gas pedal, feeling suddenly queasy.

"This...," Fi added without a crack in her voice, "This is the end."


	11. Chapter 11

"So here's the game plan," Fi reviewed as she and Carey approached the driveway to a cozy stone house. "We interview this girl, wait for Mom, _then_ we tell Jack. Only if she keeps her promise. I don't want him finding a ride all the way out here for another no-show, okay?"

"Got it. Even though he might find it worth while to meet us here either way," Carey smirked.

"What do you mean? Does he know this girl?"

Carey stayed mum as he rang the doorbell and shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels. Fi looked up at him, curious.

"Do _I_ know this girl?"

Still no answer. She turned her attention to the female silhouette coming toward the door to greet them. So far, she didn't recognize her to be anyone she'd ever met.

"Carey, why wouldn't you tell me this on the ride over-"

The door opened to reveal a figure a few inches taller than Fi. She had cropped blonde hair that hardly grazed the straps of the thin white tank top she wore. The girl looked extremely familiar but Fi couldn't quite place where she knew her from.

Before she could offer as much as a smile, the young woman locked eyes with her – a rock-hard, icy glare – and slammed the door in her face.

Carey quickly turned the knob, his big, dumb grin falling away, and let himself in after her.

He called out as he barreled through the house, "Hey! What's your problem, Annie?"

"Annie?" Fi echoed in a hushed whisper.

She hadn't heard the name spoken in years.

After a few beats, Fi followed Carey inside.

"Why would you bring her here?" she heard Annie demand from another room.

"What are you talking about?" he shouted in response. "You were friends. I thought you'd be happy to see her."

"I'm sorry, what's going on here?" Fi asked, entering the kitchen where Annie and Carey stood at opposite sides of the room, both red in the face.

"You're not sorry," Annie mumbled before channeling her anger back to Carey. "Don't you get it? _She_ did this to me! She's the reason I am how I am!"

"And how's that?" Fi cut in, offended.

"Ha!" Annie scoffed, retreating to the adjacent dining room.

"Hey!" Fi spat before chasing after her. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about, so either explain yourself and fast, or we can leave."

Annie paused with her back to both Fi and Carey. She gripped the table in front of her with both hands, her knuckles turning white. She hung her head, becoming very still. Fi resisted the urge to spin her around, furious at her for the way she'd been greeted.

"Annie? You alright?" Carey nearly whispered. He seemed just as afraid as Fi did mad.

With a shrill cry, Annie doubled over in pain. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she let out a heavy breath.

Carey ran to her, wrapping an arm around her small frame.

"Annie!" he shouted with urgency in his voice.

"I'm fine!" she growled. "Back off! This is what it's like. They come and go."

Carey stumbled back to his original place next to Fi, who hadn't moved at all except to set a hand on the gun tucked into her belt.

Annie pulled herself upright, still hanging her head.

"That hideous ring," she started slowly.

"My ri-" Fi tried to cut in, subconsciously covering her ring with the opposite hand.

"You let me put on it on. The daily migraines, the horrible premonitions of violent, unimaginable _death_," Annie explained, "it was supposed to be you having theses visions, not me!"

"I don't understand," Fi said, backing down.

"What is there to understand?" Annie spat, spinning around to face her. "It's you! You're supposed to be the _freak_ with the psychic powers. That was _your_ burden! … That is until you had me put on that, that _fucking_ ring and this curse was transferred onto me."

"But, it's just a ring."

"You said the ring had no engraving, that it'd worn off. Yet when I put it on, the engraving was there, plain as day. Explain that, Fi. Explain what you thought that meant!"

"I thought I was giving you a gift!"

"Oh, yeah!? Well, thanks. Thanks a million."

"Hey!" Carey cut in. "Cool it, both of you. Whatever's going on here, we can fix it… Right, Fi? We can fix it."

"Yes, of course," she struggled to find the right words in the midst of this array of new information. She'd deemed herself cursed long before Annie told her so, but it had never been affirmed quite like this.

"How can it be fixed?" Annie demanded. "I gave the ring back. Obviously that didn't work."

"Then what makes you think it was Fi's ring that caused this?" Carey asked.

"Something came to me in a dream," Annie explained, taking a seat at the table. "And I know what you've seen, so I know you won't think I'm crazy for what I'm about to say. This angel, demon, whatever it was – she called herself Gabe."

Fi and Carey exchanged shocked glances. Their reactions went unnoticed to Annie, who continued in a low voice, "This _thing_, told me all about you, Fi. About your destiny, what's out to get you… and the consequences those face who attempt to intervene, unknowingly or not.

"When I put on that ring, it split your destiny in half like a bolt of lightning through a tree trunk. Your enemies saw me as weak. Their goal was to get you to transfer _all_ of your psychic potential to me, thinking they could take me out much more easily than they could you. But you flubbed the spell. On purpose."

Carey narrowed his eyes on Fi in disbelief.

"I… I didn't trust the thing who told me to do it."

"It was the firefly, wasn't it?" Annie inquired, still vibrating with hate.

"A will o' the wisp. He told me to give up my magnetism to the supernatural in order to protect my family. But I changed the spell, just slightly, just enough to keep an ounce of whatever power I had, so I could still protect them myself should the time come."

"The time _has_ come," Annie replied. "And we're split fifty-fifty here. It was a little better, less of a burden on us both, when there was a third."

"What third?" Fi asked, though she knew the answer as soon as she heard the statement leave Annie's lips.

"What's Jack's theory on Gabe's death, Fi? After everything you two have seen, do you really believe bad things just _happen_ to good people?"

"Because of the transplant? … Your saying I'm responsible for her death?"

"Fi…" Carey said sympathetically, reaching out to pull her into a hug. "Don't do this to yourself. Annie, that's enough."

"You gave your bone marrow to a girl who believed in angels but not demons. Poor thing didn't stand a chance. Those demonic sons of bitches sniffed out your DNA like bloodhounds and took her out before she could even cry for help."

Fi pushed Carey away and moved to the table.

"I want to know everything," she demanded. "No more games. Tell me all you know about this and I will fix it. I promise you, Annie. I will make this right."

"Fiona. C'mon, kiddo. Call your brother. Call Jack, he'll talk some sense into you."

"No!" Fi objected, giving Carey a stare that stopped him in his tracks. She took Annie's hand, squeezing tighter when the girl tried to pull away. "Look at me, Annie. I. _Promise_."

"There's only one way," Annie said solemnly, "and it's the same fate you gave Gabe."

"We won't let that happen," Carey assured her.

"It's the _only_ way. Either you do it or the demons will. Their theory was right, you know. I'm _not_ a fighter. I _can't_ stop them. Whether it's today or years from now, they will kill me. Haven't you seen the news? Psychics, dropping like flies. You think that's a coincidence? They're looking for the psychic with the Fiona Phillips destiny pumping through her veins. They're looking for me."

"Why the hell would they _want_ me to inherit my abilities?"

"Because," Annie began with a crooked smile, "they want the fight they were promised."

"That's it, I'm calling Jack," Carey exclaimed as he bolted out the front door, his phone already to his ear.

Annie and Fi stayed seated with their hands still cupped together, equally fearful of what was to come.


	12. Chapter 12

With the curtains drawn and clock radio set to a fuzzy classic rock station, Jack unsuccessfully attempted to make himself comfortable in the hotel room's king size bed. He tried stretching out his arms and legs, but kept finding himself back to the sleeping position he'd become accustomed to: limbs tucked closely together; a textbook example of how to adequately sleep on, say, a twin-sized bed. Well, aside from the way he snuggled up to his Colt 1911, which rested faithfully underneath his Discount Stays Inn "you-take-it, you-buy-it" feather-down pillow.

Through pauses of static, Jack focused on the acoustic guitar emanating from the speakers beside him. The muffled voice of a DJ said something about Zeppelin before the station crossed frequencies with an auto-tuned Top 40 track. Jack sat up to give the dial a subtle twist.

He ignored the numbers on the clock's display as he had already checked his phone repeatedly for word from Fi. Calculating the hours she'd been gone wasn't going to bring her back here any faster.

The sound on the classic rock station cleared up in sync with the start of the next song. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Kayla's ominous message had been echoing in the back of his mind on a loop since he'd heard her say it, _Storm's coming_. Whatever "storm" was coming their way, he would need enough sleep to take it on. No use in fighting a Big Bad with a groggy head. He needed to be sharp, alert, ready to kill whatever evil son of a bitch showed up on their doorstep next.

Jack absorbed the rain sound effect coming from the radio. The Doors. One of his favorites.

_Riders on the storm…_

He almost laughed. He'd heard these lyrics hundreds of times, though they never applied quite so fittingly before.

_ Into this house we're born._

_Into this world we're thrown._

The radio signal began to fritz again. He fought the urge to fuss with the dial another time…

_Take a long -iday._

… But with each bit of static…

_-_eee_- children play._

… he felt an increasing urge to get the frequency solid again. Suddenly overwhelmed with the need to hear the song as it's meant to be heard, Jack shot up and gripped the dial, slowly, slowly, turning-

_If you give this - a ride,_

_Sweet _- FA-MIL-y_ will die._

Jack froze.

_Killer on the road._

He shuddered.

"That's a real fucked up thing to do to me now, Jim," he said aloud with his hand still glued to the dial.

_Family_. He heard the patchwork lyric the frequencies had assembled loud and clear. Something wasn't right. His heart sank. _Sweet family will die_. _Killer on the road._ Something was coming. He could feel it. Just like the night he lost Gabe. It was a familiar fear at this point.

_Girl, you've got to love your man…_

Jack wanted to cry. No one was around. He could sob like a pansy and no one would ever know. But the pit in his chest paralyzed him to the core. All he could do was sit still - mouth agape, eyes fixed on the radio - and listen.

_Girl, you've got to love your man…_

_Take him by the hand,_

_Make him understand._

_The world on you depends._

He finally retracted his hand and reached into his shirt collar, seeking out the necklace he never took off. It was hot to the touch like it'd been left out in the sun. He felt his chest to compare temperatures – his skin was cool. He swallowed hard.

"Gabe?" he called aloud, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Is this you?"

He inched backward, focusing on the emptiness of the room while he turned the radio off. Perfect silence. The room felt still as ever.

"Are you here with me, Gabe?" he added in a whisper.

Jack breathed as shallowly as he could manage. Her name remained at the tip of his tongue…

He almost jumped out of his skin when his cell phone rang from inside his pocket. He quickly silenced it, though the atmosphere of the room had clearly reverted to its previously normal state with the abrupt noise.

Feeling inexplicably defeated, he brought the phone screen into view: Carey's number. _Shit_.

"Jack."

That's all he needed to hear. Before Carey could utter another word, Jack was up and outside, running toward the cab parked by the hotel lobby.

"Address?" he was all he asked Carey in response.

"How did you- uh, 1041 Main Street, Tribune, Kansas."

"On my way."


End file.
